


Ain't No Rest For The Sober

by Milk_Of_Arsinoe_The_Awesome



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Prumano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milk_Of_Arsinoe_The_Awesome/pseuds/Milk_Of_Arsinoe_The_Awesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romano gets drunk and somehow find's himself on the front door of a certain nation's doorstep and certain feelings are revealed and revelations occur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't No Rest For The Sober

Romano wasn't sure what the hell had possessed him to randomly end up on Spain's doorstep. One second, he was out drinking with Netherlands and Belgium and the next second he found himself knocking on his doorstep. This was fucking stupid. It had to be the alcohol talking. It wasn't him. He didn't want to come back here, fucking ever. Not since he had realised…. It didn't matter what he had realised. Spain was a fucking bastard anyway. Always had been, even when the Italian nation had been a kid.

He hadn't come here in years. He had no reason to. He knew he was being ridiculous, staying away because he thought that Spain would hate him if he told him the truth. He had put up with all the Italian's stupid childish shit from when he'd been a small colony. Why would that change now? Maybe he just hated himself too much. Damn inferiority complex. He knew it was dumb to think that Spain would toss him to the side just for this, but Romano had literally grown up with the Spanish and Roman Inquisitions. The fact that it was different now was unable to quell centuries of terror.

Before he could think coherently enough to make his legs turn around, Spain opened the door , looking surprised to see the drunken Italian at his doorstep. "Lovi? Are you alright?" He asked him in concern, pulling him inside without really asking him if it was okay first. He had squirmed, but he was so drunk that it really didn't matter what he did. Spain stirred him onto the couch. He pouted slightly at him. "I haven't seen you in a while. D-do you not like me anymore?" He frowned, eyes tearing up sadly.

"Dammit, I never did," the Italian claimed, though both knew he was lying. His heart panged when he realised that he really had been avoiding him for a stupid reason. He clenched his fist; he had to tell him. Spain as a country was voted the most gay-friendly nation by the humans in surveys that Romano had seen, but while he tried to tell himself that all he thought was "that says nothing about Spain as a person. Antonio could still think…. Whatever he thought. Who the fuck cares about that bastard's opinion anyway. Wait. I do. Dammit. " All Romano could think of was he childhood. Spain starting holy wars, murdering protestants and Muslims, exiling Jews, the Inquisition, all of it. A glance at the cross hanging down from Spain's neck sent him flying into the bathroom, rushing to the toilet to hunch over it.

Romano still wasn't sure why plastered him thought it was a smart decision to come here. He couldn't even figure out how the fuck he had gotten there from the bar? Did he somehow manage to walk all the way over, did he call a cab? Did he think it was okay to drive? More importantly, if he did, why the fuck did no one think to stop him?

His thoughts became a bit distracted when the Spainard walked in. He felt soft hands stroking his back, releasing the tension that was starting to build up inside of him. He pulled off the bowl when he was sure that nothing else was coming and Spain hit the switch. He brushed the younger nation's bangs out of his eyes, concern on his face as he led him to the couch. Romano sighed as the two sat down. He really did not want this stupid confrontation to happen here, but it didn't seem like that smug idiot was giving him much of choice, at least to him. It still stunned him when the first words out of the dumbass's mouth was "did you miss me?"

"Not really." He had replied, a blush lighting his face when he realised just how much he actually had. He had…. Sort of admired him growing up, but only a little bit. He was still a bastard the rest of the time.

Spain's face looked disappointed, and Romano had to make himself look unremorseful so he didn't come across looking shocked or confused. He didn't even seem to care much that he had stopped coming over. "O-oh." He hesitated. "I missed you, Lovi."

He was quick to answer. "You're lying. No you didn't." Spain started to protest but he shushed him with a small comment. "Look I only came over to tell you something." He said to him, a bit worried about how he would take what he was going to say. His heart began thumping quickly in his chest. He had to tell him. He had to explain why he had been avoiding him and his house—particularly, his house—for the past few years.

Spain's face wrenched with concern. "What happened? Lovi? Are you hurt?"

Romano bit down on his lip. Might as well ask him for advice on the other thing before he does anything stupid like reveal anything incriminating too soon. If he was going to kick him out, he'd rather let himself pretend for a bit longer than anyone had ever actually cared about him.

He glanced at him, remembering back when he was a new nation and had started asking the idiot next to him for advice on jobs and debt and shit like that. Shit that in the long run actually mattered. Why the fucking hell was this particular thing so hard? "Well, there's this uh—person that I like, but... I don't think they like me back...and, I figured, that even though you're a bastard, that you're the closest to a father I have, so, I wanted some... uh, girl advice." Dammit, he didn't need to know about the fact that his crush wasn't on a girl, but was actually on….

Fuck. Was it just him or did Spain look actually hurt by this statement? Jeez, if this dumbass reacted like that to that to something that stupid how was he supposed to handle the whole truth? Romano bit down on his lip and sat down on the bastard's couch, suddenly unsure of whether he should have just left. He could flee now, Spain would never be able to keep up.

Before he could decide to flee or not, Spain took a seat next to him, a glass of wine for both of them in his hands. Romano took his from him gingerly. He wondered whether it was better to drink it or not. Alcohol was the drive of the stupidity that had sent him here to have this stupid, pointless, potentially disastrous conversion with a complete idiot. However, sobriety was clearly was the only thing that was keeping him from just getting it over with. Before he could think too much on the subject, he decided to take a small sip of it anyway. It was just wine, almost no alcohol anyway.

"Is it a nation?" Spain asked. Romano nodded, judging his reaction. "Belgium?" He asked. Romano could already sense the knowing look that he would receive. Everyone thought he had a crush on Belgium.

He wished it was on Belgium. He wished it was on anyone but the person that it was on, save a few people. Germany, France, and Turkey were way worse options. He shook his head and glanced into Spain's confused eyes. "Monaco?" He asked. He shook his head no again. He was fully aware that the idiot would run out of female nations soon and look at him with his judgmental Catholic eyes, with the look of someone who had lived through the Inquisition, through the Reformation, through Fascism. It was a bad idea coming here, letting him do this.

A few more names passed by his lips. Hungary. Liechtenstein. Czechia. Seychelles. Spain looked confused as he had gone through most of the ones that Romano even so much as looked at. There were a few others , of course, but none that he was likely interested in, had he really been able to. The Italian flirted with plenty of women, a smile on his face that he rarely put on for males, particularly male nations. How could he trust male nations when male nations had made his life hardest for him as a kid? Besides, if he pushed male nations away, then no one would suspect. No one would consider the possibility.

"Lovi? Who is it? I won't tell anyone. Promise." He smiled at him. Romano suddenly remembered the way that he was when the younger nation was a kid, and knew that smile hid dangerous thoughts about whoever it was. Romano wasn't an idiot. He had seen this dumbass do a lot of shit that he didn't look capable of.

"You'll hate me." He said to him. "You should hate me."

"What! Roma? I could never hate you." He wasn't aware that he was crying until Spain reached over and brushed a tear away from his face.

Romano bit down on his lip. "It's not a damn girl. Happy?"

Spain looked shocked for only a second, before his face lit up with several things. Realisation. Hope. Joy. Pain. Did he… No, he couldn't, Romano told himself. He kind of felt a bit sick with that theory. "Then who…."

Romano looked at him with confusion, still reeling even with the theory pushed back to the back of his mind. "You're supposed to disown me, you bastard! I'm an abomination. Why don't you hate me, dammit!"

Spain looked at him with shock. "Who told you that! Lovi, it's perfectly okay to like boys!" Romano shrugged in answer. Spain pulled the Italian onto his shoulder and held him close to him to comfort him. Romano thought about pulling away and shrugging him off, but truth be told, he needed it. "You'll still be mad if I told you who I had a crush on, anyway. Doesn't matter."

"I won't."

"Grandpa Rome would. Hell, the damn bastard would probably come visit me tonight like he keeps trying to just to kick my ass for it." His face took on an ashamed and saddened look, like a kicked puppy who missed its old owner it betrayed.

Spain laughed and Romano's face shifted into a glare. "No, no Lovi. Don't give me that look." He chided. "But Rome couldn't care less if you're with a he or a she or even a tomato." Romano rolled his eyes, a blush coming onto his face when he realised the shithead was referring to the time that he told him that he was going to marry the tomato in his hand because it was more attractive than "any human on this stupid jerk-filled bastard planet." What? He was a colony then. Supposedly, it had been so cute. Yeah, whatever. Dumbass.

"That's not the problem." He said. Hell, he knew it wasn't. He knew Roman History well enough to know that. "It's because he's fucking German." Romano knew that he didn't need to explain after that. Everyone knew what Germania had done to Rome. Killed him in cold blood, stabbed him in the back.

"I wouldn't hate you if you had a crush on Germany. It would explain a lot."

"I do not! And what the fuck would—"

"You hate whenever Italy fawns over him." He said with an amused chuckle.

"That's because the asshole has to look like Germania. And a damn grown-up version of Holy Rome. Probably is. It wouldn't surprise me if Gil—Prussia hadn't hid him somewhere and then introduced him as Germany."

Spain's face filled with a look of confusion before he let out a squeal and hugged him, oblivious like normal to the way he tried to push him off. "It's so cute how you almost called him by his human name! It's Gil isn't it?"

"You're not mad?" That was weird. He was Spain's best friend. He had figured that he would get angry and then chop the former Prussian into a million pieces. Regardless of whether or not the albino idiot even returned or knew about Romano's feelings. Which he didn't. As far as he knew .That time that he called Romano cute in the Italian's garden didn't count as him confessing anything. Neither did the time he kissed his cheek that one time when he was drunk. Or when he tried to ruffle his hair and Romano almost let him.

"You aren't going to murder him?"

Spain laughed and then looked serious. "Only if he hurts you." He wasn't sure about that one, but he knew he was serious. Prussia was his best friend, along with France. As much as Romano hated the latter, his stupid nonsense about love might protect the albino potato. Hopefully.

Spain ruffled his hair a bit and kissed his forehead. He pulled away and Romano could see the pain in his eyes. It unsettled him, but he did not ask him what he really thought about the dilemma that he had just presented him with. "Why haven't you come to visit me."

"I was scared. And Prussia was always over here…. I thought I could get over him…. And maybe you wouldn't notice that I'd ever…. Hell, this is stupid."

He hoped that whatever made the idiot look so pained would go away fast. Maybe hanging out with him, remembering to give a shit about him instead of pitying himself wasn't too bad. Maybe. He shoved the reminder that a part of him already knew what the pained look was about, reminding his subconscious that now wasn't the time to try to force him to realise that Antonio wasn't straight either. And he already knew exactly who he had a crush on.

Well, shit.

Next time alcohol makes him go somewhere, it better fucking be the potato bastard so he could fucking sleep with Prussia in his basement.

And maybe, hopefully, not exactly only one kind of "sleep."


End file.
